Arden arched his back, pushing his sore arse up and offering more.
“I don’t have to—” Jack started.
Arden cut him off. “Oh, but…don’t you want…?”
Lingeringly, and with impressive control, Jack pulled out. He scooped Arden face up and settled his shaking body over Arden’s limp, satisfied one. He framed Arden’s face between his hands and gazed at him before lowering his head and kissing him.
For all the gentleness he was showing Arden, Beckett heard Jack’s body screaming for release.
“I do want,” Jack said. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” Arden said. The hectic colour in his cheeks splashed all the way down his chest. He looked like a little strawberry. “I trust you.”
Jack swallowed with difficulty. “Do you mean that, Arden?”
Arden’s brows pinched together. “Of course. With everything that I am.”
Jack sighed. “I don’t want to finish in you,” he said.
Arden didn’t even flinch. “All right.”
“Do you know why?” Jack asked.
Arden linked his arms around Jack’s neck and pecked a little kiss on his mouth. “Because you’ll bounce me right off the bed if you let go the way you need to?”
Jack gave a short laugh, and nodded. “Something like that.”
Arden stroked the nape of his neck, not knowing that he was the only person in existence who could do it without getting his hand bitten off. “I’d like to try one day,” he said. “But I understand.” He shot Beckett a cheeky, conspiratorial look before saying seriously to Jack, “It’s your first time, after all, and I understand that your control might not be up to—eeee!”
Jack growled and fell on him, playful at first, but he was on the edge. His playfulness tipped over to a hard thrust, and he threaded his fingers through Arden’s hair, pulled his head to the side and bit.
Arden slapped at him. His laugh was high and bright. “Beckett!” he cried happily. “Help!”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Beckett said promptly, and tackled Jack before he bit again and Arden panicked.
He wrapped his arms around Jack’s chest and heaved, shoving him clean off Arden.
Arden scooted himself out of the way and up to the top of the bed, and that was all Beckett saw before Jack growled and fought back.
Beckett’s attack had pushed Jack over onto his side, and Beckett did his best to continue the momentum and get the man flat. He managed it, despite Jack’s furious counter-heave, but couldn’t keep the advantage for long.
He was still grappling to pin Jack’s shoulders down and swing his leg over Jack’s hips when Jack blocked Beckett’s leg with his own, thrust up with a twist of his muscular body, and rolled Beckett clean over.
And so it went, the pair of them writhing against each other, pulling up the bedsheets as always, grunting and snapping at each other, snatching biting kisses before another attempt to pin and dominate.
It was all so instinctive to Beckett, falling back into the vigour of it compared to the soft lovemaking that Arden needed, that it took him a few minutes to remember that he was supposed to be letting Jack have his way.
To his absolute astonishment, it…it wasn’t hard to yield.
Before Arden came into their relationship, Beckett fought Jack as if he was fighting for his life. It was what Jack wanted and expected. It was what Beckett expected and wanted from Jack.
Except now…
Now it was different.
He felt the shift. Gods, hefeltit, deep inside him. He would never, ever fully submit but for Jack, for Arden, he thought he could yield. Now and then. Just a little.
Just enough.
